Not on the Outside, Looking In
by Merlin71
Summary: Tag for Outcast


Title: Not on the Outside, Looking In  
Author: Merlin7/clarkangel  
Disclaimer: Don't own anything SGA related  
Rating: G  
Archive: Anywhere  
Summary: Tag for OUTCAST

**NOT ON THE OUTSIDE, LOOKING IN**

To John's surprise, when he stepped through the gate, back to Atlantis, Rodney was waiting for him. "Hey," John said, starting a bit as Ronon swept by and snagged his duffel bag.

"I'll drop it in your room," the Satedan called over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs.

"Thanks!" John called after him, then he fell into an awkward silence as he shot a glance at McKay. "So…everything okay here?" he asked when the silence got suddenly oppressive.

Rodney looked surprised by the question. "Everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be? Atlantis can survive without you for a few days, Colonel. After all, I was here." Rodney sounded completely offended.

For some reason it made John smile. God he was tired. He scrubbed a hand over his face and said, "I know you took good care of the place, Rodney. I was just kinda wondering if I missed anything."

"Nothing major," Rodney replied. He was pacing back and forth as he spoke but suddenly he stopped in front of John and blurted out. "So…you okay? I mean….you know? You okay?"

"Sure, I'm fine." It was an automatic reply. Truth was, John wasn't sure how he was feeling. Other than tired. And achy. Being hurled into a wall a couple of times does not do a body good. Not at all.

Rodney was eyeing him with what looked like genuine concern. "You don't look okay," he stated, bluntly. "You look pale and tired."

John sighed. He really wanted nothing more than to grab a hot shower and a few hours sleep, but Rodney was like a dog with a bone. "I am tired, Rodney. It was a rough few days. I know you heard about the Replicator incident."

"Of course I read about it!" Rodney hissed. "And I would have come and helped you and Ronon, but I just got back myself a few hours ago."

"Appreciate the thought," John countered smoothly, hoping to appease Rodney enough so he could slip away. He knew that Rodney was just trying to be a good friend, he just wasn't very good at it. Much the way John wasn't good at it either. He reached out and patted Rodney on the shoulder. "I'm gonna hit the shower and chill out for a bit. Catch you later."

Rodney nodded. "Sure. Later. Dinner maybe?"

John nodded, hissing a bit at the sudden flare of pain in his neck that traveled both up and down. The headache he'd had since he'd found out about his Father, went up about six notches and a band of pain seared across his shoulders and down his back, settling into his ribcage. He felt like crap.

"Sheppard!" Rodney was suddenly in his face. "What's wrong? Should I call Keller? You aren't going to puke, are you?" He stumbled back a step.

"I'm fine," John gritted out, although for a moment he wondered about the puking part. He felt a head rush and his stomach started coiling into knots, like a one-two punch meant to TKO him.

"I'm calling Keller!" Rodney's hand went to his ear.

"Don't!" John grabbed his arm. "I'm fine, Rodney. I just need a minute."

Rodney studied him for a long moment and looked like he was going to relent.

So John took the opportunity to head down the steps. Only to stumble on the last one and almost hit the floor.

Rodney caught him just in time. "That's it! I'm calling Keller."

"Please don't," John begged, because an infirmary stay would just be the topper on what had been one of the worst weeks of his life. Talking to his brother before leaving had put a few things into perspective for John, but it hadn't made his father's death any easier to accept. Especially after reading the letter his father had left for him. A letter that was crumpled in his pocket.

"You really don't look good," Rodney insisted. He was gripping John's arm hard enough to bruise and the expression on his face was one of worry and fear.

John peeled Rodney's fingers off and forced a smile. "I'm just tired, Rodney. A hot shower and a long nap and I'll be good as new."

"You need some food in you."

Those words of wisdom came from Ronon, who came striding forward to stand at John's other side. He looked ready to make a grab for him.  
A  
"You didn't eat while you were gone?" Rodney looked appalled.

"I ate," John countered, casting a glare at Ronon. The Satedan was not helping matters. "I thought you were dropping off my stuff?" A change of subject seemed appropriate.

Ronon shrugged. "I did, but I wanted to check on you."

Now John was getting mad. "I don't need checking up on! I'm not a kid!"

"How could you not eat?" Rodney was still stuck back on that issue. Dog with a bone indeed.

"I ate!" John snapped, which made the pain in his temples spike. The tension he felt was making his body tighten up and ache more. Not a good combination. A handful of Tylenol was in order before hitting the shower.

Ronon snorted. "Didn't eat enough to keep a snorgat alive."

Rodney was gaping at Ronon. "What the hell is a snorgat?"

"What you'd call a bird. Small one." Ronon was keeping an eye locked on John as he spoke, so he was ready when John suddenly listed to the left. "Gotcha."

"I'm fine!" John tried to shrug off Ronon's arm but the Satedan's grip was like steel. "I just need a shower and some sleep. Okay?"

"Okay." Ronon. He started to haul John along, not in the direction of his room.

John dug in his heels and managed to stop. "Wrong way, big guy." He had accepted the fact he was going to have an escort, but they'd get to his room faster if they went the right way.

Rodney was on John's other side, hovering, and he seemed to have learned how to read Ronon's mind while they were gone. "You're going to the infirmary first," he declared, but glancing over at the Satedan, as if for confirmation. Rodney was smart enough to know he couldn't get John there on his own.

"I'm not going to the infirmary!" John snarled, twisting in a move Teyla had taught him, so that he could free his arm from Ronon's grasp. Which worked, only he put a bit too much force behind it which meant his body screamed in protest as pain stabbed through his ribs and into his head. Nausea made itself known as well as John closed his eyes and fought to breathe through the pain.

It didn't work. There was a rush of darkness and John felt himself falling. Oblivion claimed him before he hit the floor.

OoO

The moment consciousness returned, John knew where he was. The infirmary. Knew it from the scent and sounds surrounding him.

"Colonel?"

He peeled his eyes open to see Keller's concerned face. "Doc…" John rasped, his throat feeling dry.

She offered him a glass with a straw and he took a few pulls of cool water. "Better?"

"Better." He meant it. His body felt achy, his temples still throbbed a bit, but it was all low level and doable. "John scrubbed a hand over his face and made a guess at how long he'd been out, based on the stubble. "Over six hours?"

"Almost eight," Keller replied. "How are you feeling?"

John sighed. "Like I could sleep for a week. In my room." He felt the need to get the last part in.

Keller chuckled. "You can go back to your room tomorrow, Colonel. I'd like to keep an eye on you tonight and make sure you eat."

"Right." John didn't have the energy to argue with her, and he appreciated that she was simply stating the facts, which he already knew, and not harping on him. He suddenly noticed the privacy curtain, and the fact that no one from his team was there. Usually, when he woke up in the infirmary, someone was waiting with him.

"I kicked them out," Keller said, as if reading his thoughts. "I figured you could use a bit of down time."

"Thanks." John meant it. He was rather glad to have a moment to himself. Realizing he was in scrubs, he had a moment of panic. "My pants!"

Keller was still a step ahead of him. She moved to the bed table, opened the drawer and pulled out the crumpled letter. "I sent your clothes to the laundry, but I thought you might want this."

John accepted the letter. "Thanks." He shifted, trying to get comfortable, then realized mother nature was calling. "Um…I need to use the…ya know."

"Right." Keller looked almost as embarrassed as John felt. "Um…need some help getting there?"

"I'm good." John pushed the covers back and stood up. He felt a bit shaky, but the pain didn't spike anywhere and after a moment the slight headrush passed. "Got it. Be right back."

Keller touched his arm before he took one step. "Don't be long. I'm going to send for a tray and I want you to eat then take a nap."

John nodded. "I can do that."

"And for the record, you're off duty at least for a week."

"What?" That caught John by surprise. "

Keller shook a finger at him. "You bruised your ribs, you have bruising on your neck that's going to take a while to fade, and you're exhausted. You need to take some time for yourself, Colonel. That's an order, and one you know I can enforce."

John did know and he had learned that Keller was as stubborn as Carson and harder to charm. "Fine. But just a week, right?"

"That's up to you and how you do at your check up at that time," Keller replied. Giving him a nudge, she turned away. "How does soup and a turkey sandwich sound?" she called over her shoulder.

"Sounds good!" John called back, although he had little interest in food. He shuffled off to the bathroom, took care of business, washed his hands then sat down on the closed toilet lid. He had tucked the letter into the waist band of his pants, but now he pulled it out and smoothed it open.

It was short and to the point, the way John remembered his Father always being.

Dear John,

It's been so long since I've tried to talk to you that I'm not sure what to say. Other than I'm sorry. I wanted you to be a carbon copy of myself, and that isn't who you are. Not that I know who you are. My fault. I know I pushed you away and that you stayed away because I never made the effort to pull you back in. Forgive an old man's stupidity. I've always been set in my ways and too stubborn to change.

Just know that I never stopped loving you. I just wish I had figured out a way to tell you that before it was too late.

Love, Dad.

John folded the letter back over, then bowed his head. He closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. He hadn't had time to let his dad's passing really hit him, but the letter reminded him of how much he'd really lost. Of all he couldn't ever get back.

"Sheppard!"

Pounding on the door made his head jerk up and he swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. "What?" he called out, having recognized Rodney's voice.

"Get out here, already! We brought breakfast!" Rodney sounded excited. John chuckled to himself. There was food involved, with always made McKay happy.

"Better hurry, Sheppard!" Ronon's chimed in. "Teyla's eating for two and she's eyeing your tray!"

That made John laugh out loud, especially when he heard Ronon grunt. Teyla would always get even. "Be right out," he said. He got up and splashed cold water on his face, the letter safely tucked in the waist band of his scrubs. A moment later he was climbing back into bed and Teyla was pushing the rolling table over his lap.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Welcome back, John."

"Good to be back, " he replied, squeezing firmly before letting go and reaching for a half of his sandwich. Suddenly he was starving.

Rodney was already munching away. "So Ronon tells me you're rich. You never mentioned being rich."

John swallowed a bite of sandwich before replying. "I am rich, Rodney," he allowed. "But not in a way that involves money." He looked at his team as he spoke and he saw Ronon and Teyla get it right away, but it took Rodney a moment.

"What are you talking about?" Rodney scoffed. "Rich and money go together. Even though you American's have stupid money." He grunted when Ronon poked him, then his expression suddenly changed at the light bulb clicked on. "Oh…um….right. Rich in…other…ways." He locked eyes with John for a moment, before turning his attention back to his own sandwich.

John shifted, feeling the letter crinkle against his skin. He would miss his father, and regret what he had lost. But he had something money could never buy.

Family.

"Ronon said your family has horses," Teyla interjected his thoughts.

John smiled at her. He'd shown her and Ronon some westerns, so they both knew what horses were. "Yeah. I grew up with horses."

"Did you ride them?"

"Every day," John confirmed. "Kinda miss it." It was a tidbit from his past he had never shared with anyone. But these people were family, and John realized it was time to let them in. So he did, as he let Rodney and Ronon split his dessert, explained to Teyla about growing up in three different houses and fell asleep as Rodney tried to explain the difference between Stanford and Harvard.

He was finally home.

THE END


End file.
